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cecelia Oct 2015
In high-school chemistry classrooms across the
country, you are forced to memorize all of the different
lab equipment.
They never tell you to memorize the constellation
of freckles spattered across the bridge of your
lab partner's nose, but you do it
anyways.

You learn about Marie Curie and radioactive decay, but you
find you are more interested in the way his smile starts small
and grows to light a fire in your cheeks.
You blame it on the Bunsen burner.

You study polyatomic ions and how they act as a single unit, and it
reminds you of how he winks at you right before quizzes
and you find you can't focus on anything at all.
You blame it on the lack of breakfast.

You test over periodic trends and ionization energy, but all
you can think of at night is the way he taps his fingers
and maybe it's why you can't sleep at night.
You blame it on a restless mind.

In high-school chemistry classrooms across the
country, you are forced to be careful when handling
Erlenmeyer flasks.
They never tell other students to be careful when handling
your heart.
They never tell you how much easier it is to clean up the mess
from a shattered beaker than it is to clean up the mess
from your shattered heart.
Losing myself in the past encompassment if you're purple fluid.

Nothing in the world makes sense anymore, but this is vividly lucid.

It is the first time in a long while my mind has been at ease.

Stuck in this cold smelly laboratory, you wobble as a beautiful flower in a gentle spring breeze.

Spinning round and round and watching as your viscous liquid collapses on its center.

As the bubbles float to your surface, and your opaqueness turns transparent, so do I imbibe the truth of reality.

Just as it began, so will it end at my hand.

Your fortune awaits as you help to reveal the secret that the naked I cannot see.

I can only hope my future is as beautiful as yours.

— The End —